Knock, knock….

October 22, 2010

Helloooooo? Remember me? Your itinerant food blogger?

I’m back. For a while, anyway. I may even cook. In fact, I sorta-kinda cooked tonight, albeit it weren’t nothin’ special (burgers and oven fries for NS, and I had cheese and pickles and olives with wine). This latest sojourn was two days in Et-lanna, followed by a day of travel and two days of trying to dig out from under the pile that had accumulated in my office during my absence.

There are still phone calls I have to return.

No real exceptional food in Atlanta; a good steak at Morton’s, which is always going to be the case, which one of the good things about going to Morton’s, no matter what major city you may be visiting. They use good meat, they cook it well, they don’t futz with it, they offer you a decent array of sauces (bearnaise, Bordelaise, peppercorn; I asked for truffle butter and got turned down). They mix you a good martini, and pour you a decent wine. They do what they do, and they do it well, if entirely within the expected realm.

I did go to a reception at what had some promise of being a pretty cool place, albeit by that time I was so damn tired I had no appetite, so I just drank. It was at Grape, a wine bar (no shit, Sherlock!) and bistro. They did have a nice array of cheeses I munched my way through, and then assorted flatbreads with stuff on them that looked pretty cool, but I was not about eating at that point.

What I was about was going back to the hotel and retiring to the patio off the bar with a single-malt and a hand-rolled Dominican cigar I’d scored at the trade show that day. Seriously. I happened upon the Dominican Republic’s booth and sho’ nuff, there was a guy rolling cigars. I stopped to watch, and he smiled and handed me one as he finished it. I babied it around all day, contemplating how good it’d be that night.

And it was. Albeit they didn’t have any Macallen or any Glenmorangie, and I tried Bowmore, which is just a tad too peaty for me. Still, it was a nice night to sit out amid the concrete canyons of downtown Et-lanna and enjoy a pleasant fall evening and a good smoke.

Tomorrow, I may make lasagna. Or ravioli. Or something. Haven’t quite made up my mind.

Elsewhere in the universe….

I had a massage today, and helped buy a goat. How cool is that?

An explanation. Massage With A Mission is an operation that has teamed up with Heifer Project International, which works to promote sustainable agriculture in Third World countries. They’re one of those traveling massage operations that brings in a massage chair, on which you kind of kneel-sit, leaning your head over on the face rest, while the massage therapist does lovely things to your body. And they have a deal where they’ll bring their operation to your office for half a day for a given price, a percentage of which will go to purchase a goat for a Third World family somewhere. My boss, who is a wonderful person, bought a half-day session, which happened to be the exact amount of time needed for each of us in the office to have a 30-minute massage.

Gawdamighty, that was fine. I did NOT want it to be over. And I will be going back to visit them.

On the flip side of life in the wider world, I had a confrontation with the Tea Party today. And I won. Or at least I felt like I did.

I’d gone to early vote, at the election commission, next door to my office. (Early voting is Da Bomb.) And I’d run the gauntlet of candidates and those campaigning for candidates, and this guy comes up and says, “Let me give you an election guide.” And on the front of this brochure it says, in big star-spangled letters, “Tea Party Voter Guide.”

I stopped. Dead damn still. I looked at the fellow, who was grinning foolishly as he proffered his propaganda. And I gathered all the indignation at my command (which is considerable), and I said, “I am perfectly capable of voting without guidance, thank you. And if I required guidance, you may be assured I would not accept it from a group of know-nothings who have no concept of the principles of governance, let alone of the Constitution. Thank you. Good day.”

And I walked away, feeling virtuous.

Don’t you and y’mama ‘n ’em be believing any Tea Party nonsense. Or I’ll take you off my Christmas card list.